


visitations

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: “Once you’ve completed your assignment,” Lando continued. “You’re overseeing aid drops in the Outer Rim, aren’t you?”Oh. Yes. Of course. He nodded. “Some days, it feels like it’ll never be over.” He tugged on his earlobe, head tilting slightly. “But I’m only out there for another six months, I think.”“And then what?”Bodhi shrugged. “Whatever else Chancellor Mothma needs, I suppose. What else is there?”





	visitations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incognitajones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/gifts).



“Welcome to Cloud City,” Lando said, hand flicking out to encompass the entirety of the structure and beyond. Bodhi had never been anyplace like this. He’d heard of it, of course. Anyone who knew Lando for more than a few days had probably heard one tale or other about its magnificence—if not also stories of how Lando intended to get her back. By all accounts, and especially Lando’s own, it had been a brutal, daring struggle against the Imperial governor who’d been placed in charge of the Anoat sector at large. But here it was: done. And Lando reinstated as her Baron Administrator.

It was still so new to him, thinking of Lando as anything other than General Calrissian.

Bodhi had never known Lando outside of the Rebellion general he’d known during their struggle against the Empire. Practically staid, though only by his own standards, he’d worn pale gray-blues and thick, woven linens then. Much more colorful than a lot of the more drably garbed officers and soldiers, even if not so eye-searing as the pilots, Bodhi included. But here? Here Lando was something else altogether. Bodhi had thought him cool and composed before, always a ready smile even during the most trying of times, a laugh in his eyes and on his lips, but now that he’d seen otherwise, there’d been one thing Bodhi hadn’t seen before: relaxed.

This was Lando relaxed. And it was a spectacular sight to behold. He filled the entire floating compound with his presence and his gait was sure and smooth as he led Bodhi through its halls. His cape, a much brighter blue than Bodhi was used to seeing him wearing, flicked and swung about his ankles, flashing gold as it whipped about. His feet carried on at a steady, easy clip, the heels of his shined black boots clicking on the polished floor.

But most striking was the hand that hung about Bodhi’s elbow, urging him gently forward, a warm hazy presence against his skin.

Bodhi had always liked Lando’s hands. They were just about the first thing he’d noticed about him, after all, his skin smooth and his nails evenly trimmed, not a speck of dirt beneath them even though every Rebel base or ship Bodhi had ever seen invited rough, worn, dirty hands. Every movement Lando made with them was elegant and economical. They were, Bodhi could admit only to himself, good hands.

Even better, in his eyes, they could pilot ships and well, too. Though he’d been a little busy with his own dogfights, he’d heard secondhand about Lando’s exploits as Gold Leader during the Battle of Endor. A few momentary holovids floated around, images captured by astromechs that happened to have cams and good timing, which was almost good enough, almost like being there, too. Bodhi wasn’t often jealous of other people—he’d been too fortunate in his life for that—but he had to admit. He would’ve traded a lot to have been in Wedge Antilles’s position during those crucial moments.

In his vainest thoughts, he imagined he could’ve served just as well, protecting the _Millennium Falcon_ with at least as much skill. Blasphemy to the rest of Rogue Squadron and himself most of the time, he kept that thought to himself. Wedge still had more command experience than him and he was a good man. If anyone could pull off the required mission, it was him.

“A lot on your mind?” Lando asked, pulling him back from the deepest confines of his thoughts. He hadn’t meant to let his mind wander, though sometimes that happened. It used to startle Bodhi when this happened, but now he’d grown used to it, especially since he was never reprimanded for the way his attention drifted.

“No,” he answered, probably after far too long a delay to cover for. “I’ve just—never seen anything quite like this before.” And that was true. For all that he’d worked for the Empire, he couldn’t exactly call Eadu the most compelling or beautiful of places. When the only real experiences you’d had of the galaxy involved several desert planets and their opposites, there was still quite a bit in the universe that could surprise you. Or perhaps Bodhi was just credulous to a fault. He wasn’t naïve, but his experiences weren’t the most worldly of ones; he refused to be embarrassed about that. And more, Lando wouldn’t have let him feel that way even if he wanted to be. But he could use it to explain himself

A delighted grin blossomed across Lando’s mouth, dimpling his skin around the corners. He leaned in, just close enough for Bodhi to catch a whiff of cologne. Sharp and spicy-sweet, it wasn’t a scent he was familiar with. Lando hadn’t worn it before that he knew of; he was certain he’d have noticed otherwise. “Well, I’m certainly glad to be showing you then.” His arm bumped against Bodhi’s as they reached another intersecting corridor, nudging him right. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” Bodhi replied. “I was a little surprised by the invitation, but I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Lando’s eyebrow arched. He made a small tsking sound that Bodhi wasn’t sure he was even aware he’d made. “What makes you say that?”

Bodhi rolled one shoulder and failed in an effort to fight back a blush. How could he explain it to Lando? _Well, General,_ he thought, a little snide, _you’re General Calrissian and I’m Bodhi Rook and I didn’t even know you’d paid enough attention to me to want me to come here_. “I—nothing, really.” His fingers twitched together, his hands uncertain of what to do. He brushed at a few stray strands of hair that had freed themselves from one of the braids he’d put it into before taking off. It had grown long, but there was little enough time to see to such matters as getting it cut. There were more important concerns, even if a case of helmet hair made him think twice about that fact. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen most people from the Rebellion is all.”

They were all so very busy; Rebel leaders, soldiers, and supporters alike were scattered across the galaxy to help out where they could, each assignment given according to their post-war wishes and desires. Some had mustered out, settling for ‘real’ lives away from reconstruction efforts and politics and military missions. Bodhi saw the appeal, but he couldn’t see himself doing anything but this—this continuing to help the New Republic grow in strength.

Galen Erso had left an indelible mark; the rest of his team—his team, the rest of Rogue One—had seared it into his bones.

But as fulfilling as he found it, it was lonely, too. His friends were halfway across the galaxy. Sabacc games, of which there had been many, even some with Lando, no longer whittled down the long stretches of free time. He’d met new people, of course, but it wasn’t the same.

“All hands on deck,” Lando replied agreeably. “It does cramp a man’s style.”

Bodhi laughed in surprise. That wasn’t quite how he’d have worded it. Lando was the stylish one, not him, who still wore his flight suit and until now hadn’t thought to bring anything more formal along than his normal off-duty gear.

Something of Bodhi’s disbelief must have shown on his face, because Lando laughed again before clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s good work,” he said. “Important work. One day, it’ll ease.” He said it like he never wanted the furious pace to slow and that was Lando all over. He relished these things.

Bodhi? Bodhi just wanted to settle down knowing he’d done good in the galaxy and made up for the harm done by the Empire. He imagined it like a ledger and he imagined, too, himself wiping away all the debts that had been accrued. Every day, he was able to erase a little bit more from his mental calculations. That was good; that was enough.

Mostly.

Even if it was still exhausting, solitary work. Some seemed to relish it, like Leia. Some withdrew and found other ways to help—the way Luke did. Some, Han Solo came to mind, swung dubiously between those two extremes, never quite settling on where he needed to be. Bodhi sometimes felt like all three of them. And sometimes, he felt like the only one who felt the way he did. For a moment, he considered asking Lando his opinion, but he figured he didn’t need to bring work into what was purported to be a ‘fun break from reality.’ Whatever that meant.

Bodhi hoped it involved a round of sabacc. He hadn’t played against anyone worth a damn in months. Nobody got it quite like Lando did, who was nothing if not an artist at the sabacc table, too.

 _You’d be an amazing card sharp,_ he’d said once. _If you put your mind to it._

 _What makes you think I’m not,_ he’d answered, allowing himself to acknowledge the true extent of his skills for the barest, briefest handful of seconds. It wasn’t something he’d thought to be proud of before, but his penchant for gambling _had_ saved his life. He would never have been able to fund his defection without the credits he’d liberated in the months before his departure.

Lando, ever the socially sensitive man, nodded, thoughtful, and merely suggested that one day, Bodhi would have to tell him about it. For once, Bodhi found he wanted to do just that. At the time, he’d demurred. _It’s not so very interesting_.

Lando had countered with something to the effect that he very much doubted that. His gaze, Bodhi recalled, had lingered, causing warmth to spread all throughout his body. The look had, at the time, felt like a comfortable weight. Later, Bodhi realized he probably shouldn’t think about any looks from Lando as comfortable. He was a general after all. And though Bodhi could have bargained his way into a higher rank, he’d chosen to remain a pilot with as little a formal role in the Rebellion hierarchy as possible. It might’ve been inappropriate to develop a crush on someone in the chain of command.

He refused to allow himself to think about Leia Organa and Han Solo’s relationship. They could be those people, one being a princess and the other… not exactly drafted into the Rebellion’s military structure until late in the proceedings. It wasn’t the same thing at all.

“What do you think you’ll do once it’s over?” Lando asked.

“What?” Every thought in Bodhi’s head scattered at the question. Lost in the past, he’d all but forgotten about the present.

At least this time it was pleasant memories.

“Once you’ve completed your assignment,” Lando continued. “You’re overseeing aid drops in the Outer Rim, aren’t you?”

Oh. Yes. Of course. He nodded. “Some days, it feels like it’ll never be over.” He tugged on his earlobe, head tilting slightly. “But I’m only out there for another six months, I think.”

“And then what?”

Bodhi shrugged. “Whatever else Chancellor Mothma needs, I suppose. What else is there?”

Lando tipped his head in what might have been a concession, if possibly a dubious one. “There are other things in life, you know.” But before he could say what, he jerked his chin toward a door. It was no different than any other door they’d come across in their time spent walking through the hallways of Cloud City. “Perhaps we can discuss them over dinner. Only after you’ve had a chance to rest from your journey though.” With a few steps, he reached said door and palmed it open, the thing sliding silently on tracks, not even the pneumatic hiss that Bodhi was used to.

With Lando gesturing him in, he stepped over the threshold and did his level best not to gawp at the simple, elegant luxury of the place. For a man used to barracks and overnight stays in various Outer Rim hostels, this was beyond everything he might have considered as a possibility. “Wow,” he said, quiet, but not quiet enough to keep Lando from hearing.

Huffing in pleasure, he grasped Bodhi by the shoulder. “I hope it’s comfortable enough for you.” And, surprisingly enough, he sounded genuine about that, like he didn’t quite know whether the place would suit Bodhi or not. Completely ridiculous, of course, but then, so was Lando on occasion, he supposed, especially if he thought Bodhi might be concerned about his own comfort in a place like this. Part of him wanted to argue and assure, the other part of him, a part that had grown in the last few years, took precedent. “I’m sure,” he replied, teasing and more than a little deadpan, “I’ll find some way to manage.”

Eyes twinkling, Lando squeezed, his hand warm against Bodhi’s shoulder. Bodhi never wanted that solid, comforting feeling to go away, though of course all good things did. “Good man,” Lando insisted. “Let me show you around.”

Though Bodhi wanted to argue—he’d already taken up so much of Lando’s time, surely he was busy, there were more important things for him to be doing—Lando didn’t give him time to do so, already pointing out this, that, and the other amenity. A holographic fireplace, high-speed Holonet access, deep, inset tub in the bath, every detail swirled in Bodhi’s head. “Too bad I couldn’t live here,” he said, offhand, a joke if ever there was one. He’d never have been able to afford it on his own salary and even so, what was he going to do in the Anoat sector? It was a silly notion and an equally silly thing to say, not least when Lando turned toward him, stunned into silence.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, he asked, “What’s stopping you?”

At that, Bodhi was the one stunned, though considering how quiet he could be, the silence aspect was somewhat lost on him. His every thought raced one another, biting at each other’s heels. So many thoughts occurred to him, and most of them boiled down to _this was a bad idea,_ but all the same.

“I… don’t know,” he admitted. Nothing except his duty tied him to the Outer Rim and even that would be done soon enough. After that…

“There are a lot of places in the galaxy that need help,” Lando added. “I could tell you the needs of this entire sector. Lotta people could benefit from a pilot with your experience.”

Bodhi wanted to know why Lando cared that much, why he was making it so easy for Bodhi to want to say yes. Every knee-jerk reaction told him to say no. No, it was impossible. No, it wasn’t fair. No, he didn’t deserve it. No, what would he even do here? No, he definitely should not be this close to Lando at all times. What was he trying to do to himself here?

But every one of those reasons why he shouldn’t find an equally compelling argument against them: for whatever reason, Lando thought it was a good idea. And when Lando thought something was a good idea, Bodhi found it easy to trust in it. Easier anyway. Bodhi would always be himself, would always worry a little bit.

“Cloud City is open to you, whenever you want it to be,” Lando said, hands raised. His palms looked as smooth as they always did. Bodhi wanted to trace the lines of it and feel for himself that soft expanse of skin. There was some emotion in Lando’s eyes that Bodhi couldn’t quite parse. Eagerness, maybe. “That’s all I’m saying.”

He swallowed around a lump in his throat. He’d met with a lot of kindness in his time with the Rebellion, but the sheer ease of Lando’s generosity took Bodhi especially by surprise. The way he said it, Bodhi fully expected that Lando would happily give everything in his power to have Bodhi remain here. Not just because it was the nice thing to do, but because he wanted Bodhi to be here.

How much of that was just Bodhi’s wish? And how much of it was true?

He supposed there was no way of knowing if he didn’t take the chance. Tipping his chin up and breathing deeply, he asked, “Why did you invite me here, Lando?”

Lando’s smile faltered, but instead of retreating, he doubled down and seemed to grow more confident. It grew even brighter and his posture straightened. Perhaps he took it as a challenge. Bodhi almost hoped he did, curious to know what he would do, certain that Lando would do something. Lando always, _always_ did something.

In this case, he stepped forward. Slow, projecting the motion, he reached for Bodhi’s hand. Just knowing what was about to happen sent a thrill of anticipation through Bodhi. They didn’t touch, not like this. They’d never shaken hands before. Which, now that Bodhi thought about it, was kind of ridiculous. His skin prickled with sweat and he surreptitiously wiped both of his hands against his flanks. His flight suit was coarse beneath his hands, scratchy. Not anything he would have wanted to wear during such an occasion as this. Boldness demanded something more.

Why had he insisted he fly himself rather than take one of the now myriad transports that came into and out of the city every day?

His nerves jangled, tingling throughout his body. Time finally caught back up to him and by that time, Lando had taken his hand and brushed the—soft, Bodhi noted—pad of his thumb across Bodhi’s knuckles. Back and forth, soothing, it warmed Bodhi all the way through.

All this because Lando held his hand.

“It would be dishonest to say I’m being entirely selfless here,” Lando admitted. He peered down at Bodhi’s hand, scrutinizing it with enough focus that Bodhi almost pulled it free. Unlike Lando, Bodhi had scarred hands, unpleasant hands. They were constantly dry and chapped. He rarely took as good a care of them as he should have. “I happen to like having you around. Sabacc games are never quite so interesting now without you, but more than that, I’ve missed you.”

Bodhi nearly jerked back. “Me?”

“Mmm,” Lando hummed, nodding his agreement as though the first bit wasn’t enough. As though to punctuate his thoroughly clear point, he raised Bodhi’s hand to his lips. They were as smooth as his hands and softer somehow. Though his mustache tickled at Bodhi’s skin, who was now so aware of Lando’s presence that he nearly shook, he didn’t laugh. He was too flushed for that. And too focused on the feel of this moment lest he never experience its like again. Raising his head, Lando no longer grinned. Instead, he appeared pensive, a little wary. It made Bodhi feel powerful in a way he found uncomfortable, like he could crush Lando’s spirits with a single word. “In case you hadn’t already guessed, I’m rather fond of you.”

Bodhi’s mouth twitched. He’d had a few short-term partners during his years with the Rebellion. Flings, really, nothing important. Just a bit of fun—blowing off some steam or the like. He’d even cared for a few people during his time with the Empire. There was a crush or two back on Jedha from when he was very young. None of those feelings quite matched the sensations Bodhi felt now. Like doing a barrel roll or losing power in low atmo during a dogfight with an eyeball, it was undeniable. His heart raced, plummeting and swooping around his chest. “I’m—” He tried to find the same courage Lando had shown by admitting as much. “I’m beginning to think you want to take me out on a date.”

The tension broke, like water spilling over the lip of a glass. It got everywhere, but with such a sense of relief attached to it that Bodhi couldn’t mind the mess that it would likely make of everything. It would be worth it, Bodhi let himself thing, to see this through.

“Is that what you think?” Lando asked, voice low-pitched and lovely. Bodhi would gladly have listened to it for all time and then some.

Bodhi nodded, sensing that Lando was teasing him or testing him or, more likely, both at the same time. “I do.”

This brought Lando a few steps closer. “And what would you do if I did?”

“I’d say, ‘yes,’ and possibly offer to buy the drinks.”

It was worth it for the sharp, sparkling brilliance of Lando’s smile as it crossed his face again. This time, too, he brushed a kiss against the curve of Bodhi’s palm. It sent a shiver down Bodhi’s spine. Oh, yes. He’d made the right decision here. He knew that now. No matter what else might happen, it was worth it to take this chance.

Trust hadn’t always been easy to come by, but Bodhi trusted Lando all the same.

“I happen to know the best bar in town,” Lando said, light and teasing, further easing the awkwardness of the moment with the joke-that-wasn’t-really-one. “Once you’ve had a chance to relax, I’ll show it to you.”

Though Bodhi wanted to go right now, his body betrayed him with a yawn. He _was_ rather exhausted and this sudden shift had managed to wring even more out of him. “I’ll only need a few hours.”

Lando accepted this peaceably, letting go of Bodhi’s hand with a squeeze and a gentle pat. “A few hours then. I’m holding you to that.”

“I hope you do.”

Lando, as it turned out, not surprising at all, did just that.


End file.
